


catnip

by bluetint



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cheerleaders, Christmas Fluff, Confessions, Costumes, Dresden Files References, Drinking to Cope, Embarrassing Situations, F/F, First Time, Fluff, GIRL7, Gen, Handcuffs, High School, Kindapping, M/M, Minor Injuries, Multi, OT7, One of them nearly dies, Pole Dancing, Police, Possibly Unrequited Love, Rule 63, Snow, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, Topping Jitters, Useless Lesbians, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, criminal minds au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22120849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetint/pseuds/bluetint
Summary: An archive of all my CC fills.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Jackson Wang, Im Jaebum | JB/Kim Yugyeom, Im Jaebum | JB/Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang, Im Jaebum | JB/Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang/Park Jinyoung, Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Kim Yugyeom/Park Jinyoung, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Im Jaebum | JB, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Kim Yugyeom, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Mark Tuan, Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 2
Kudos: 81





	1. when will my vibe return from war

**Author's Note:**

> these are fills i did for prompts that were sent to my cc. i'm archiving them here in case i lose my cc and also some of the fills got too long for the answer box. heh.
> 
> the ratings actually vary but i've set it as explicit because some of the fills are. tags and pairings and fandoms will be added as i go on.

**1\. [Jackbeom. Abo. Slick,,,everywhere]**

Jackson knows it had been _his_ idea and that he'd been badgering Jaebeom for days on end to let him try it. The other man had initially resisted, before giving in because a) horny trumps all b) Jaebeom is a sucker for Jackson.

But now, as he's faced with the one thing he's wanted for so long, the one thing that's being presented to him on a silver platter (not literally, but the identical silver bows tied around Jaebeom's thighs added that feel to it), he's a little daunted by the _unusually generous_ amount of slick dripping out of Jaebeom's hole. It's just - glistening on his cock, his thighs, his buttocks - everywhere.

"We can stop if you want," Jaebeom suggests. His initial reluctance to let Jackson go down on him had been because of this _very_ thing. He didn't know where what went wrong, but sometimes his body pumped out slick like it was going out of style. The doctors assured it was nothing serious, that these things happened. It wasn’t too much of an issue but it went absolutely bonkers when Jaebeom was majorly turned on. Like right now, as the prospect of Jackson going down on him drove his juice factory to work overtime.

"No, no, I _want_ to do this." Firm hands grasp Jaebeom's ankles and give a reassuring squeeze. "I just... The fragrance overwhelmed me."

"Gotta blame it on my juice, huh," muttered Jaebeom dryly. But he understood. The air smelled like someone had smashed open a carton full of strawberry perfumes in the room. It was heady enough to make you gag.

Jackson snorted, pushing Jaebeom's legs apart and moving closer. "Stop trying to be funny when I'm trying to eat you out."

"It ain't my fault -" Jaebeom tries to sing but is rudely cut off by Jackson burying his face in his legs and going to town.

\---

**2\. [Jingyeom- snowbank]**

Jinyoung had only meant to take a few pictures and run back in. He would not even have thought of leaving the comfort of the pillow and blanket fort, but the pink and purple sunrise coupled with the pure snow everywhere was a sight begging to be captured. He'd grabbed the Canon with the intent of snapping a few shots. Satisfied and eager to show Jaebeom and Bambam what he'd gotten, he'd made to go back inside but then Yugyeom, who had followed him out, tackled him into the nearest mound of snow.

Jinyoung had screamed - at the sudden shock of being jumped and of the cold ice pressing against his bare skin where it was exposed to the elements - before trying to take a swipe at the tall man cackling on top of him. Yugyeom had easily dodged, scooped up handfuls of snow before smearing them all over Jinyoung's face. 

Jinyoung's scream died in his throat, his body breaking out into shivers at the ice on his skin. Yugyeom plucked the camera from Jinyoung's hand, set it aside daintily before grabbing his frozen cheeks before peppering them with kisses. Jinyoung could barely feel the lips on his numb cheeks.

Just as Yugyeom is about to reach his destination, Jinyoung whispers, "I'm going to kill you," which makes Yugyeom pause before he breaks out into a wicked smirk. 

"We'll see."

Then a warm tongue is sliding into Jinyoung's mouth and now he's shivering for a different reason.

\---

**3\. [I just want an embarrassing situation like sex turning into a disaster that requires the intervention of other people. Probably officials, like police men or fire men. Bonus if it’s jackson and jaebeom doing the stupid stunt]**

Jackson had only wanted to make the night special. It was their six month anniversary and Jackson had spent the past two weeks ensuring that everything would go without a hitch. The all day amusement date park had gone well. He'd won three stuffed cats for Jaebeom and Jaebeom let him cling to him for the scarier rides. The candlelit dinner had been amazing. All that was left was the pièce de résistance; the bedroom decorated with scented candles and a message on the bed composed in rose petals:

_CAN I EAT YOUR ASS?_

Jaebeom had snorted, slapped Jackson on the shoulder, before bursting into the loudest belly laugh ever. Jackson had preened and pouted, and Jaebeom had grabbed his face into a kiss before saying yes. 

It'd been... perfect. Like, he had Jaebeom on his knees, ass up in the air, and he was just about to get to the best bit, when the bed sheet caught fire and the smoke alarm started blaring.

Because of the station being a block away from their apartment, the fire brigade had showed up immediately. They'd only had time to hurriedly put their pants on before dousing the fire out with water from the bedside jug on the table before the firemen came barging in with the extinguishers.

Jaebeom had locked himself up in the bathroom from sheer embarrassment after the firemen finished up their interrogation. The questions had been pointless, really. All you had to do was take one look at them, at the half lit & half extinguished candles, the burnt sheet and the petals shakily spelling out the word A S S to understand what had happened here.

"Never again Jackson," Jaebeom tells him after he's finally been coaxed out of the bathroom and into Jackson's arms. It had been his flailing arm that had knocked the candle over, after all. "Never again."

\---

**4\. [YugBam. Poles.]**

"You know," murmured Bambam, running his fingers over the chain links with a thoughtful expression on his face. "When I asked for a pole to be installed in the bedroom this wasn't what I had in mind."

"Oh?" Yugyeom's burly form shifts as stretches his neck and rolls his shoulders (the best he can) before assuming his previous position. "What did you have in mind then?"

Bambam purses his lips to hold back the laugh that was threatening to burst free. "Definitely not... this." 

There was no way in hell he could've imagined Yugyeom appointing himself as a pole in Bambam's bedroom, clad in nothing but tight leather pants, arms chained up to the ceiling hook they'd installed for a sex swing but never used, feet planted shoulder width apart, a shocking pink feather boa draped around his shoulders and chest. The pose made his chest pop out, and Bambam takes a second to marvel over how thankful he is to have a supportive clown for a boyfriend.

"Most definitely not _this_." 

Yugyeom shimmies, causing the chains to tinkle and the boa to slip down a bit and Bambam loses it, laughing so hard he ends up on the floor.

He does find the actual real pole installed in the back room along with a full length mirror (that he didn't remember asking for but was grateful to have, nonetheless) and a stereo system later in the day and come to grow fond of it but nothing, _absolutely nothing_ , will beat pole dancing on Kim Yugyeom.

\---

**5\. [JJP. Handcuffs.]**

"Tell me you're joking."

Jaebeom looks down the length of Jinyoung's body, the planes of his stomach slick with perspiration. the cum cooling in the dark thatch of hair around his spent cock. Words are hard. "Uhhh..."

 _"Lim Jaebeom."_ Jinyoung invokes his name like its a curse, in the same tone of voice he uses on suspects in the interrogation room seconds before he's about to wring a confession out of them. "Tell me you're joking and that you _have_ the keys."

"I'm joking and I do have the keys," Jaebeom parrots in a rush, trying to appease him with a smile. Jinyoung's expression continues to stay flat, the hand that was cuffed to the bedpost curled into a fist. Their work phones continue to ring in the background, joyfully unaware of the tension in the room caused by a pair of lost keys.

"When I get myself out of these," Jinyoung says, eyes narrowing in a manner that should _not_ be making Jaebeom's dick twitch in arousal, "you are _so_ dead."

\---

**6\. [Can you write a YugBeom smut fic with Yugyeom as an adorable top?]**

First time sex is said to be magical, ideal to the point of aligning one's soul, and all around memorable for those involved. Jaebeom has read enough books and has had enough real life sex to know that fiction tends to exaggerate and you have to infuse things with your own brand of magic to make them memorable.

Yugyeom's earlier enthusiasm and energy at the prospect of topping Jaebeom for the first time had been slightly dampened by his nerves and desire to do well. Jaebeom assured him that it was okay, that he was just happy to be here with the younger boy, but Yugyeom was determined to make it _perfect_.

But the second he'd done away with Jaebeom's underwear, his confidence had fizzled. His hands turned hesitant and lips turned down with uncertainty. Jaebeom, in a bid to put him at ease in his own unique manner, took Yugyeom's hand and ran it down the length of his body.

Jaebeom puts Yugyeom's hand on his chest. "What is this?"

Yugyeom squeezes his pec with a snort. "Your man boobs."

He shifts it lower. "This?"

"Your nonexistent abs."

Jaebeom rolls his eyes. "Brat. This?"

"A dick, since I happened to own one myself."

"Ten points to Hufflepuff," sang Jaebeom and nudged his hand _lower_. "This?"

"Deez nuts."

Jaebeom heaves a long suffering sigh, muttering about immature brats as he takes his hand lower still, making Yugyeom's fingertips brush against the strip of flesh between his cock and asshole. This peculiar mapping of Jaebeom's body is melting the tension out of Yugyeom's frame. "This?"

"Uhhhh...." Yugyeom racked his brain but came up blank. "I don't know."

"We call it the bridge to holewhere," Jaebeom tells him proudly. "Through here, you will proceed to my mancave with your mighty staff -"

 _"Oh my god, hyung!"_ wailed Yugyeom in a strangled voice, smacking Jaebeom's thigh and pushing him away as the older boy wheezed and cackled. "I hate you, I've changed my mind I am _not_ going to put my dick there!"

Jaebeom tries to stop laughing to tell him otherwise, but he can't, too amused by the slang, making a mental note to thank Jinyoung later. It was because of him he came to know of this little nugget. 

Yugyeom's trying to be angry at him, but Jaebeom's deep laughter is infectious and Yugyeom's never been good at getting mad or staying that way, and soon he's chuckling along with the older boy, all of his earlier unease gone.

"Ready?" asks Jaebeom an indeterminate amount of time later, pulling Yugyeom on top of him, spreading his legs to accommodate his larger frame. Yugyeom's lube slick erect cock brushes against his perineum as he lines himself up.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

\---

**7\. [Markson. Lesbians.]**

"Mark."

"No."

"Baby?"

"No."

"Love of my life? Honey-bunny? Sugar plum?"

"No, no and if you break into the Cuppycake Song I will throw you off the balcony, Jack."

Jackie pouted and then, "Mommy?"

Mark focused her steely gaze on Jackie. "That's not going to work tonight, sugar."

"But I'm _horny_ ," she whined, shoving her face into Mark's bare stomach. 

Mark grunts, tugging on Jackie's short hair until her nose isn't pressed against her belly button piercing. "So am I, but there is no fucking way in hell are we doing anything until that wrist of yours is healed."

"But -" Jackie knew she wasn't making a convincing case for the once white cast, now covered with well-meaning messages and a squiggly looking clit scrawled at the end, was like an eyesore that just could not be ignored. 

Coach Yubin had been explicit in her instructions regarding caring for the injury because the season was coming up and Jackson was one of her key players. Besides, Mark held a healthy fear of the older woman to even think of disobeying her.

"No buts," said Mark, smacking a hand over Jackie's protesting mouth. "No nothing. We are going to sit here in absolute silence and watch Bend it Like Beckham like civilized people because there is no way in hell am I risking both our necks for some poke checks."

"But -" Jackie tries, one last time.

_"Silence, bottom."_

And well, that was that on that.

\---

**8\. [University Jock Jaebeom (let’s pretend he’s good at sports, okay) and Head Cheerleader Fem!Jackson]**

"Sit upright, lean forward. Keep the pressure steady." 

The school nurse is barely animated on good days, but she sounds downright done as she tends to him. Jaebeom blinks through the pain concentrated in the middle of the face and tries his best to flinch as she prodded and poked at his nose.

"Not broken. Pinch it here, tight. Don't let go for ten minutes," and then she leaves him, disappearing behind the curtain. Jaebeom sighs, tries to maintain the position the older woman had told him without sniffing. 

There's a flurry of movement and the curtain parts to reveal the gorgeous face of Jackie. She was still dressed in the red and white cheerleader outfit, her captain's jacket hanging off her shoulder. Jinyoung, his best friend, comes in right after, still in his soccer uniform.

"You all right?" Jackie asks him. "That looked like it hurt."

Jaebeom's heart sings at the concern in Jackie's voice. The chivalrous man in him hurries to assure her he's okay, it was just a scratch, but he's foiled from doing so by the villain standing beside her.

"Hyung, you should really keep your eyes on the ball," Jinyoung tells him, voice dripping with mock concern and 100% genuine sarcasm. Jaebeom glares at him. 

Sure, he'd been distracted momentarily by the flips Jackie had been doing on the sides, utterly mesmerized by the effortless way her form arced throught the air but Jinyoung had _no fucking right_ kicking the ball right at his face to get his attention.

Goalkeepers didn't keep with their _face,_ goddammit!

"Are you sure you don't need any ice?" Jaebeom nearly jerks back because the pretty girl is right in his face. Jackie's big brown eyes are wide with concern but all Jaebeom can focus on is her long lashes and the highlighter on her cheeks. 

So pretty, he thinks, unaware of the dopey smile on his face. Jackie tells him she's going to some more ice, but Jaebeom's not listening and Jinyoung's shaking his head in disgust at the dumb expression on his best friend's face.

After all, it wasn't the first time university jock Jaebeom had ended up in the infirmary because he'd been distracted by the head cheerleader Jackie's beauty and it wouldn't be the last.

\---

**9\. [Jackbeom. Professors.]**

The air is thick with the strong odor of soju and tension.

The lecture on Japanese conjugations had completely gone over his head. The instructor was a mean little man, taking their queries as an opportunity to belittle them. Had it not been for Jinyoung's restraining him by sheer force of will, Jaebeom would've punched him.

The textbook lays abandoned in the corner, having been chucked in the corner in a fit of rage earlier. The quiz is tomorrow and he knows he should study, because the abysmal grade would reflect poorly on his monthly evaluation. A soju hangover before the test was the last thing he needed.

"Fuck Professor Hwang." Jackson's slurred and thick words break into Jaebeom's reverie. Jaebeom had stopped drinking after the first bottle, but Jackson had carried on, too overwhelmed from a stressful day that refused to let up even in the late hours of the night.

The sickly yellow bulb in the stuffy room shed light on the sheen of perspiration on Jackson's cheeks along with the tell-tale flush of the inebriated. The mouth of the green glass bottle is pressed up against his wet lips. His sheer white top is sticking to his skin like cling film. 

The room suddenly feels too small and too hot. Jaebeom shifts, trying to ease the tightness in his gut that he refused to name. Jackson, drunk and miserable, nearly topples over but Jaebeom catches him, his bare shoulder too hot in his clammy fingers.

Scratch that, Jaebeom thought shakily, setting Jackson right, deliberately ignoring how the neckline dipped to reveal a dusky nipple. 

A hangover was the last thing they _both_ needed.

\---

**10\. [Bbam, soft pre-relationship stage away from home for Christmas and enjoying the snow on Christmas morning 😭😭😭😭😭]**

The quiet of the dorm is disconcerting, for the rooms are usually alive with the sounds of seven guys and a dog. Now it's all hush hush, just a Christmas carol playing faintly at low volume. Bambam thinks wistfully of his family back home, of how he should've been there now, singing and cracking jokes as they decorated the house, wishing for snow in the land of the sun.

"Bambam-ah." Jaebeom's voice calls out to him, reminding him that he's standing in the middle of the room holding a tray full of piping hot cocoa and croissants. His heart gives a tiny leap at the sight of Jaebeom's tired face, the lower half of it completely obscured by the woolen scarf. It's the one Bambam had gotten him last Christmas. His heart gives another tiny leap and he tries to play it cool.

"Hold your horses old man," quipped Bambam, slowing down his steps to a snail's pace just to mess with Jaebeom. The older boy shakes his head, the act causing a lock of hair to fall on to his forehead. Bambam's heart performs a cartwheel.

The view in the window is a sea of white. Bambam can barely make out the houses and roads that have been completely covered by snow. Not a soul can be seen for miles. Not a sound to be heard. It's as if the world has come to a standstill. The only sounds are of them sipping and blowing on their hot cocoa with Mariah Carey singing about who she wanted for Christmas in the background.

Their fingers brush as they both reach for the last croissant at the same time, both of them pulling back together, startled at the sudden contact. Jaebeom meets Bambam's eyes for a brief second before turning his face away and Bambam's cheeks turn as warm as the mug in his hands.

For this, thought Bambam, as Jaebeom broke the croissant in half for them to share, crinkling his sleep swollen eyes at him, he wouldn't mind missing Christmas with the family every year.

\---

**11\. [Marksonbeom. Stuck in the desert.]**

Mark blinked.

Sand.

Mark rubbed his eyes and looked again.

Nope, no change. The sand was still there.

He pinches himself, wondering if he was dreaming.

The scenery around him remains unchanged. A falcon’s shriek cry sounds overhead.

“How the fuck did we end up in the desert?”

It’s not really a question, no, it’s more of an expression of disbelief. But his companions take it as a genuine query and thus burst into dialogue.

“We were out getting cake,” Jaebeom tells him and for sure, there’s a rectangular white box with a loopy pink border on the dashboard. Shit, it’s leaking.

“And were about to get in the car and leave, because, time is of the essence,” adds Jackson inspecting his face in the rearview mirror. He pokes at the purpling bruise under his eye and winces.

“But then a portal opened up and the spider monkeys attacked,” pipes up Jaebeom from the backseat. “The ones with the incendiary poo.”

“I can’t believe that shit was on fire,” Jackson turns to Jaebeom with wide eyes. The panther nods earnestly, feline eyes wide. “Doesn’t that hurt their assholes?”

Jaebeom’s tail thumped the against the backseat thoughtfully. “Did it come out flaming? Because that would explain their screa -”

Mark slams a hand on the horn, having had enough of this scintillating discussion about supernatural simian fecal matter. “Guys, as much as I would _love_ to hear you two yakking about flaming buttholes, we have a big problem on our hands. We are lost, in case you haven’t noticed, _in the middle of fucking nowhere_ , because we drove our car into the damned portal. There’s sand fucking everywhere and - _oh my god is that a fucking cobra on the hood of our car?”_

Indeed, there is a Nubian Spitting Cobra slithering over the sleek red bonnet of the Corvette. There’s nothing alarming about cobras when you’re locked up in a car, but when the cobra is four times the size of the real thing and there’s smoke coming from its nostrils it’s a genuine cause for concern. Its eyes held the same sickly green glow as the eyes of the monkeys earlier, a surefire hint of demonic possession. Mark mentally skipped through the list of enemies they’d pissed off this month that could’ve done this, but he was drawing a blank. 

Jackson sighs and pulls out his scimitar, biting his thumb and smearing blood all over the curved blade, the sigils lighting up a vibrant golden. “Jinyoung’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”

Jaebeom lets out a piteous whine, flattening his ears and whiskers at the thought. All three of them look at the cream leaking forlornly out of the box. The elaborate vanilla ice-cream affair had been selected with great enthusiasm for their sorcerer boyfriend’s birthday and it was now dying an undeserved death in the desert heat.

The cobra lets out a vicious hiss, not appreciating that fact that it was being ignored. Jinyoung was probably sitting at home with the other three, waiting on the cake so they could get on with the celebration and end it before 10 p.m. because he had to work the next day. From the looks of the setting sun, the enchanted _and_ possessed reptile tapping on their windshield and their broken GPS, none of them would be going home before midnight.

Mark snaps up a ball of flame. “At this rate, we’ll be lucky if all he wants to do is kill us.”

\---

**12\. [got7 ot7 where theyre trying to decorate the dorm but somehow everyone gets tangled in the xmas lights and someone knocks over the tree haha]**

Youngjae can’t breathe.

Judging from his position - tangled up in three different colored strands of tinsel with two bulky boys and a puppy on him - it’s a miracle he can draw air into his lungs at all.

“Jackson get your goddamn foot _off_ my face.” snapped the extremely irritated voice of Jinyoung from Youngjae’s right. He tries to crane his neck to see but is blocked by Yugyeom’s hair. It tickles his nose, making him sneeze, startling Coco off his back and making Yugyeom scream.

 _”Youngjae hyung!”_ Youngjae knows it’s gross to sneeze on someone and it’s downright vile to do so when they can’t even escape you. He apologizes to Yugyeom who just lies there with a whine.

“If I could I fucking would, _Jinyoung-ah_ ,” snaps Jackson, his voice coming from the same direction as Jinyoung’s had earlier. 

“Your feet stink.”

“They do _not_ , that’s my foot cream you’re smelling.”

“It smells worse than your feet.”

“Excuse me -”

“Guys.” Jaebeom’s irritated voice cuts through Jackson’s shrill one. His significantly more irritated face is level with Youngjae’s shoulder. “Maybe figure out how to get ourselves out of this mess first?”

Decorating the dorm for Christmas had sounded like a fun idea at the time. There was a residual heaviness in the air, knowing that they wouldn’t be seeing their families, but all of them had tried to work past that, diving heartily into putting up decorations and humming along to Christmas carols. Somewhere in the middle of decorating the tree and putting up stockings, Yugyeom and Jackson had started chasing each other throughout the dorm with the tinsel and before anyone knew it, they were all lying on the floor, tied up together with decorative material that happened to have acquired the consistency of sturdy rope. Their attempts at breaking out of it proved to be futile so they were just lying there, waiting for Mark and Bambam to return and cut them out of it.

“Thank God Youngjae turned off the heat under the soup,” Jinyoung says bringing to mind the Hot N’ Sour soup they’d ordered exclusively for the occasion. They’d been salivating over the thought of tucking into hot deliciousness only to discover the restaurant had forgotten to pack the fish crackers, leading to Mark and Bambam offering to run out and get some. Jaebeom had suggested they finish decorating before eating and that ended up in…. Well, the current situation.

“Where’s Mark and Bambam again?” inquired Jackson.

“They went to get fish crackers, remember?” The nearby convenience store had happened to run out of them, so Mark and Bambam had caught the bus to the next one a couple of streets away. The vehicle had broken down on their way back but they were still stuck a good distance away.

“Are they still stuck in the bus?”

“Bambam said they were walking back… Twenty minutes ago.” Jinyoung informs them.

“Oh god they’re gonna take forever.” They all take a ten second pause to reflect on the wonder and woes of public transportation. 

“Look on the bright side, at least the tree is done!” pipes up Yugyeom, the poor lovable soul trying to inject some positivity into the current situation.

And that’s when Coco takes a running jump leap and the tree comes crashing down on the floor.

\---


	2. you got me feeling like a psycho, psycho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still chipping away at the old prompts and since prompt #2 turned into a fic i was like, might as well.
> 
> i have updated the tags but i will say it again; if you're not used to the Criminal Minds level of violence in fics, this isn't for you, for here there be kidnapping, forced sexcamming, slashed throats, blood, someone nearly (not completely) dying and violence. if that isn't your thing, sit this one out, okay?
> 
> it's been a while since i watched CM so my profiling might be off or whatever, and honestly, i just made it up as i went along so if you're particular about that sorta thing..... i'm sorry ._.

**[JJP with stripper!Jinyoung and bouncer!Jaebeom pls]**

Jaehee watches the officer take in the body on the floor, the torn strap of Jinri's corset and then to the drink in his hand and takes a minute to feel sorry for the poor sod. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Jinri lets out an irritated sigh, the action making her long bangs fly about her face. "Which part?"

"Um, all of it?" The sound of Mark's shaker is a little distracting to be honest, but the bartender doesn't care, going about making cocktails as if there wasn't a corpse on the floor and cops all over the place. The patrons and clients had been ushered out hours earlier, making it look like the place had been abandoned. The music had been shut off, but the neon lights were still flashing over the poles on the stage, dollar bills scattered here and there.

As a bouncer, police showing up at strip clubs was nothing new, but the skewered vampire carcass in the middle of the stage changed things.

The officer, a young rookie with too big ears, takes a noisy sip of the cocktail Mark had handed him earlier before putting it down on the table. Local law enforcement had no business showing up here when the Agency existed but the Mayor was a nosy fuck who loved sticking his nose where it didn't belong. The squad would be here soon and the case would be turned over to them anyway, but the police would still do their damnedest to be as inconveniencing as possible. They had better hurry up before Jinri skewered the guy with her other stiletto, the other one firmly lodged in the middle of the vamp's forehead. Judging from the yellow tape and forensics snooping around the place, it was going to be a long night.

What a bummer, thought Jaehee as she sipped on her own drink, taking in the now ruined black cat dominatrix outfit Jinri was wearing. Costume night at the club was always a delight. There was a long rip running down the right side, flashing bare skin and some underboob as Jinri took off her cat mask to give the guy a withering stare. A shiver goes through her spine as the guy practically wilted under her fierce gaze, the effect amplified by the maroon lipstick.

Jaehee feels her panties get wet and subtly shifts in her seat, feeling stifled in her tux. The movement does not go unnoticed and Jinri levels the full force of her gaze on Jaehee, making her go still where she was sitting.

The air crackled with tension. Mark continued to shake, a knowing smile on his face as he watched the scene. Jaehee didn't think she was leaking that bad, but Jinri's senses were sharper than most.

Uh oh, she thought as Jinri's eyes curved in delight, a sharp smile on her face making Jaehee feel like prey, the officer spluttering in the background, trying to regain control. The discipline whip, more of a prop, hung menacingly at her side. The sight of it dries her throat, her heart beating loudly in her ears as she takes a sip. Jinri's smile gets sharper, her eyes briefly flashing amber.

Scratch that, the night was about to get longer.

\---

**[Markbam. Camboys.]**

The air is thick with the smell of iodoform but even the hospital smell cannot drown out the coppery scent of blood on his clothes.

Jackson's staring blankly at the ceiling, Jinyoung sitting beside him, gaze trained at distantly at the geometric pattern in the tiles, fingers tucked absently into the crook of Jackson’s elbow. Yugyeom's head is in his hands, Youngjae's arm slung over him. Jaebeom's off to the side, speaking quietly into the phone, updating the superiors. They are all locked in a silent vigil, hoping, praying. He wants to say something, but he _can't_ so he stays silent. 

Bambam's hands are starting to ache through the bandages, the stitches making themselves aware where they were sewn into the palms of his hands holding his torn skin together. He grits his teeth through the pain, hoping, begging, praying.

An eternity later the doors swing open, revealing the exhausted but relieved forms of the doctor who'd been taking care of Mark since he'd been brought in and the nurse who’d been keeping them up to date. There's no bloodied gloves on the doctor this time nor is he wearing a surgical mask. Jaebeom takes him aside. The nurse, a sanguine lanky man in glasses and Chicken Little scrubs, comes over to them.

Like those boys, an insidious voice whispers in his head. Bambam shudders, clamping down on it immediately.

"He's awake," he informs them; Jae according to his name tag. "You can see him but only for a little while. Who wants to go first?”

No one speaks, but they don't need words to communicate. They've been working together far too long for that. The pointed silence is a little unsettling until Bambam realizes everyone is looking at him.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Jackson asks, giving him his first smile since he'd pulled a limp Bambam from the floor by his crimson slick hands.

"Probably a handwritten invitation," quips Jinyoung with a lazy grin, the bruise under his eye a rich purple where one of the unsubs had elbowed him trying to escape. His hand hasn’t moved from the crook of Jackson’s elbow since. The analytical part of Bambam's brain files that away for later.

"I'll bring out the red carpet." Yugyeom's words are light but carefully spoken, mindful of the stitch on his swollen lower lip. He'd been walking up to the house with Jinyoung when the unsub had run into them resulting in a tussle. It had taken Youngjae shooting the unsub in the leg to bring him down. 

Had Bambam maintained his professionalism and apprehended the offenders first instead of throwing everything away in favor of concern and worry for a romantic interest none of them would be here today. The guilt chokes him up, prevents him from parrying back, for he’s usually at the forefront of witty banter and the opportunity to take the piss out of someone.

A firm hand fits itself over Bambam's shoulder, Youngjae's knowing face coming to rest inches before his. It had been Youngjae who'd noticed the cuts on Bambam's hands and arms from where the unsub had sliced him up, hunted down a paramedic to sew him back together, draping a blanket over him and staying by his side during the drive to the hospital. “You get first turn.” Out of nowhere, Youngjae slips a plastic flower, similar to the ones you saw in the hospital gift shops, into Bambam’s bandaged hands. “Boyfriend privileges and all.”

"I -," starts Bambam, off-kilter. Youngjae’s sentence makes his stomach tighten up. _How did they know?_

One glance at the others shows that they were absolutely not fazed with this announcement.

Jinyoung, looking like the cat who ate the canary, says, “Profilers, Bam.”

Yugyeom snorts. "Oh come on like no one's noticed how Mark hyung is constantly in his man cave now -"

"Ewwww."

"I meant his office you perverts!"

Jaebeom's hand comes down on his other shoulder, steering him towards the door. Bambam's fingers tightened reflexively against the plastic wrapping of the fake flower, trying to come up with an explanation. Jaebeom had been the one they'd been most worried about finding out, not wanting to put him in the difficult position of having team members engaged in workplace fraternization. But his boss just gives him a smile, it's brief but genuinely heartfelt, like most of Jaebeom's actions are and Bambam feels the tight coil in his stomach loosen. 

"Go," Jaebeom tells him. "You have fifteen minutes before the rest of these clowns come in."

"But -" Fraternization. Repercussions. The Section Chief would have Jaebeom’s head if he heard of it. The old man was always after him, looking for an opportunity to make him look bad.

Jaebeom digs a thumb into his cheek, startling him. He realizes he's scraping of a speck of dried blood. "Don't worry about it. Shoo."

Youngjae claps him on the back, giving him a reassuring smile before pushing him inside, the door closing with a soft click.

Bambam doesn’t get a chance to take a good look at the room’s decor, his gaze zeroing in on the figure on the bed and the many tubes coming out of him. Mark’s awake, the thick bandages wrapped around his neck stand out in stark contrast to his skin, looking frail breakable under the shock of blond hair and paper-thin gown.

“You look like shit," the words are out of Bambam's mouth before he can think them, an involuntary response to whenever he's in Mark's presence, because their love language is expressing their intimate thoughts via jabs and backhanded compliments.

“Bambam,” Mark’s voice is scratchy and low. “Come here.”

Bambam’s still in his regular clothes, a black shirt crusted with Mark’s blood and jeans, his holster empty of its gun. He swallows, realizes he hasn’t drank in... he can't remember. He curls his aching hands around the plastic flower and stays where he is, not sure if he has the right after his incompetence nearly got his lover becoming a statistic.

“Bam, _please_.”

And lo and behold, because Bambam at his core is a weak man, especially when it came to the one he loved. He never really learned to hold back. 

Minding the tubes and Mark’s injuries, Bambam folds his long limbs into the hospital bed, burying his face in Mark’s chest. The siderail dug uncomfortably into his back but he didn’t care.

Mark can do nothing more than put his hand in Bambam’s hair, but even that is enough for him. Neither of them speaks for some time.

Mark breaks the silence. “Did we get them?” 

Them. 

Cybercrimes had been investigating a string of college sophomores disappearing off campus who would then appear on the internet as camboys for the past two years. Some months ago, one of the boys had ended up dead, the body ending up in their jurisdiction. Jihyo, their Unit Chief, had contacted them and they’d agreed to collaborate on the case, both teams traveling between the main office and the temp office they’d set up near the ‘hunting grounds’ after a painstakingly detailed geographical profile drawn up by the combined efforts of Bambam, Sana and Tzuyu.

The profile had put the unsub as a local male in his thirties who lived alone no stable job or digital footprint. What their profile had failed to take into account, was the possibility of an accomplice, and that had turned out to be the unsub’s half-brother who was one of the camboys that had disappeared years back. The steadily rising body count of the camboys had kept them completely occupied, fielding questions and criticisms from the superiors and public alike.

It hadn’t been the unsub, but the unsub’s brother who was murdering these boys. There had been a theory about the unsub having an accomplice, but they didn't think he would play the major role. It wasn't the unsub, but his brother who would go on college campuses to lure young men in reduced circumstances away with offers of employment who would then be forced into camming. 

Young men physically similar to Mark. 

Bambam had been vehemently against the idea of Mark putting himself out as bait to catch him in the act. He’d tried to pass it off as professional concern, but they’d had an argument. Clipped, tense words exchanged in a cramped closet ending in frigid disagreement. Mark had refused to back down and Bambam had had no choice but to go with it.

The brother (actually a step-sibling) hadn’t come to light until the search engine on the laptop pinged with a hit. Bambam had pitched the idea to Jaebeom (he was primarily the team’s tech analyst) who’d told him to pursue it, but not share with the team until he had more evidence. The glaring confirmation had come through just when Mark had just entered the house, _unarmed_ with only a wire on his person, not knowing that there were _two_ dangerous men in the house instead of one.

Panic had overridden every logical response in his brain, sending him careening out of the surveillance van, gun in his hand, heart in his throat.

The events of how he’d gotten from the van into the confrontation that had ensued were hazy in his head from lack of sleep and pain. All he could recall at the moment were the two brothers, the younger one shouting at the older, terror and anger twisting his youthful face, gun pointed while the older one stared back, knife dripping with the blood of Mark and Bambam.

Bambam in the middle, his hands on Mark’s neck, trying to keep the life from flowing out of his frame, confessing his love and beseeching him to live.

Bambam, now anchoring himself with the sound of Mark’s steady heartbeat against his cheek, limp with the knowledge and relief that he was alive and breathing.

“Is this for me?” Mark tugs the flower from Bambam’s hands, that he'd forgotten he was holding. 

Bambam looks to the flower in its cheap packaging and then at Mark. “Youngjae gave that to me. They know.”

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but a dramatic groan and a flower being flung in his face was not it. Bambam squawks, blinking fast. “What?”

“You just cost me $300.” Mark flips his hair out of his face, the brittle strands he’d dyed to fit the profile better. “Youngjae bet me that we wouldn’t be able to hold out until Christmas. I had more faith in us.”

“Excuse me?” The disbelief in his voice makes it rise. Shaken and a little disoriented, he makes a concentrated effort to lower it. “They knew?”

“Have known for a while. You just confirmed it with this.” At the last word, Mark gestures to the room and their respective states and all the events that had led them here.

His brain isn't working. “I thought -”

“Bambam.” Mark’s tone is exceedingly gentle but wry. “Profilers.”

Bambam’s head hurts. Maybe it’s the blood loss, the side effect of not having eaten in twenty-four hours, stressing over the survival of a partner or the fact that he’s been fretting about keeping their relationship on the down low for absolutely no reason, that’s making him want to bury his head someplace dark and soft and never resurface. He’s starting to feel like a fucking fool.

“Cybercrimes also knows now if they didn’t already from the stunt you pulled,” Mark says, the sharp grin on his face evident of how much he was watching Bambam react to this. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu had tried to stop him but he hadn't let them, going as so far as shoving them back in the van. "You owe their youngest two an apology, I think."

 _Oh my god just kill me now_.

“Pretty sure Jaebeom is going to make sure Jackson or Jinyoung are in the bat-cave with us at all times.” 

Bambam burrows his face into the dark space under Mark’s arm and the pillows, slapping his hands over his ears to drown him out. Mark lets him be, just for barely a minute, before prying his fingers open carefully and whispered in to his ear, “I love you too.”

They're not those couples who lean towards effusive statements or are constantly tactile. They're the type to sum up what's inside their heads in a few statements. Actions speak louder than words. Mark is more likely to buy him a yearly supply of British Banquet to tell him he loves him than say the words himself.

Bambam might have whispered those words in a desperate moment, because he’d genuinely thought Mark had been dying, but that didn’t mean he didn’t mean them. He also thought Mark hadn’t heard them, on account of choking on his own blood and never would.

“Couldn’t say this earlier because of obvious reasons, like my throat getting slit open." Bambam flinches. He was going have nightmares over this. Mark squeezes his hand in apology.

"Also, I’m taking that $300 out of your account.” Bambam isn’t given the chance to react or even be offered the grace period to say something because that’s when the door creaks open, the entire team spilling in, armed with balloons and flowers and a get well soon card with Jaebeom bringing up the rear. 

“We’ll talk later," Mark tells him before breaking into a groan at the sight of the shit-eating grin on Youngjae's face.

The wall clock showed it to be thirty two minutes since Bambam had come in and he mouths a silent thank you as he's accepting a glass of ice chips from Jaebeom, who just nods.

Later means damage control, meetings, paperwork and a hopefully physical follow-up to their confession. They wouldn't be able to do much on account of their injuries but Bambam didn’t fret, for they both were more than creative in _that area._

But for now, thinks Bambam, as Mark laughs while wrapping his fingers around Bambam’s hand, watching Yugyeom cheer and Jinyoung groan as a grumpy Jackson slapped some crisp bills into a smirking Youngjae’s palm, with Jaebeom shaking his head at the entire thing, he would just live in the moment and be grateful for this little family.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> also i am not taking any requests at the moment and for those who did send them in, they'll either come out in the next round or i'll keep sitting on them until inspo strikes. patience is key, young padawans ;)


End file.
